


Friend, please

by sotakeabitofcalpol



Series: Are You Dead? [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Drugs, Eating Disorders, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, I’m sorry, Logan is too, Patton is depressed, Roman has a lot of self hatred, Smoking, So much angst, Virgil is anxious, all the triggers, human! au, they’re all lowkey suicidal, yeah none of them are in a good place, yeah really don’t read if you’re easily triggered
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 15:53:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19467214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sotakeabitofcalpol/pseuds/sotakeabitofcalpol
Summary: Friend, please remove your hands from over your eyes for meI know you want to leave butFriend, please don’t take your life away from meWhere they’re all struggling and try to help each other when possible (which isn’t much)They’re happy, though(Spoiler alert; they aren’t)





	Friend, please

They were happy when they were kids. Now look at them.

Patton smiles into his mirror, practising the movement as he throws a pill into his mouth. It isn’t what he’s supposed to be having, he ran out of those two weeks ago and now he’s left with anything; anything he can get enough of a high off. Right now, his choice is painkillers. He knows the limits, Logan had them calculated for each body mass, and he’s just below a fatal dose. And he’s happy. Or at least enough for the others.

Roman can’t look into his mirror, because he smashed it yesterday when he felt wrong wrong wrong. His knuckles are neatly bandaged, courtesy of Patton, and it’s making it hard to wash off the eyeliner that’s staining his tears black. His lips are coated with cherry, and his mouth and hands with bubblegum, that just barely masks the scent of vomit that if asked, he’ll blame on the bottle of kirsch sat on his desk. He hasn’t touched it for days. He hasn’t really touched much for days, except to pick at the flaws in his skin until they bleed. They throb as his eyes do, but it doesn’t matter. He can throw on a smile easy as lipstick. He’s done it when Virgil was panicking on the bathroom floor at one in the morning. In any case, he’s happy. Or will be when he can get rid of this one...

Virgil is curled protectively around a bottle of whiskey that he shouldn’t really be drinking. It doesn’t react with his medication, not that he’s taken it since secretly topping Patton’s up three weeks ago. He would have used another coping mechanism, a not so healthy but effective one, but Roman had noticed and the others had banned him from sharps. Kinda hypocritical, given the bandages that creep out of Logan’s sleeves sometimes. He tried sitting at the bottom of a swimming pool too, but that’s also frowned upon, especially in winter. Right now, the alcohol is doing a great job of blocking everything out. Maybe he’ll try it next time. He’ll be happy again. Or at least numb.

Logan is blowing smoke into the December air as he dangles his feet off the roof’s edge. He’s not going to jump, not when there’s a good chance he could survive. But the thought, and the bitter cold that’s seeping through his T-shirt are making him feel more alive than he has in days. And when that fails, there’s always his cigarette or his little knife to stop him from floating off again. He needs to be there to keep them together. Hopefully not for long, because his plan is for a few weeks time. But they aren’t to know. He’s happy. Or at least as happy as they expect him to be.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so I promised angst. Don’t do what they’re doing, talk to someone. Goddamnit, the statement may be hypocritical as fuck, but tell someone.


End file.
